Page 68 of Keeping Collette

“I have a good visual and sound of you all. Be careful.” This came from Cass, who always looked over their missions when they were doing work with the FBI.

“Fuck, I wish I was with him,” Deal muttered, and drummed his fingers on his leg.

“I know, but this is better. We’re ready if we need to help.” Jag held out his fist and Deal pumped it with his own.

“I’ve got eyes on Jim. He just pulled up,” Angel alerted them all.

“Right on time,” Deal muttered.

“Who would’ve thought he’d be as regular as the nightly news?” Jag joked.

“Definitely works in our favor.” Deal grabbed the tablet and logged in so they could watch what was happening too. Collette had wanted to be in the office when the visit went down, but he’d convinced her that it was best she went to work. He also promised to tell her everything that happened, but if there were things said that would hurt her, then he wouldn’t mention them. It was one of the reasons why he insisted that she not be there. She didn’t need to hear if they said anything derogatory about her sister.

The video feed was showing the top of the steering wheel and a bit of the view outside the windshield of the car Hound was driving, due to him wearing the button camera.

“Just pulled up. How’s sound?” Hound asked.

“All still good,” Cass confirmed.

“Let’s fucking do this, then,” Hound mumbled, and because they’d worked together for many years, the tension in Hound’s voice was obvious.

Deal muted his comms. “Do you think he’s going to be okay?”

Jag followed suit. “It’s going to be fucking hard for him, but he’ll do it. He knows this visit is necessary to bust up everything that’s going on at this shitty location.”

Deal nodded and unmuted himself. Eveline and Teresa were working all angles to find out who was trafficking out of the area. They were worried that Viktor Kosnovič was involved, even though after everything that had gone down with Cynthia, he’d been quiet. It didn’t mean that he still had his fingers in the pie, but it just wasn’t as obvious.

They’d also narrowed it down to two possible cartels who also likely had fingers in the pie as well. Considering Viktor had worked with a cartel previously, it wasn’t unreasonable to expect he’d teamed up with another. The Bratva trafficked both drugs and people.

The sound of the doors closing drew his attention back to the present, and he moved the tablet so it was in a position where they both could watch.

Hound and Irish entered the store, and it looked exactly the same as it had when Deal had been there with Collette. Why he thought it might be different, was a mystery to him.

“Look what the fucking cat dragged in. My long-lost brother,” Jim drawled, as he pushed the jacket he wore back a fraction so the gun holstered on his hip was visible.

“Jim, you’re looking… well.” The pause was infinitesimal but there was a lot left unsaid.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Mal asked, his eyes bloodshot, and Deal didn’t need to be close to the man to know he probably reeked of weed.

“Thought maybe we could do some business.” Hound sounded casual, as if he didn’t care what either one of them said.

What could his friend be thinking, being this close to the people he’d walked away from? To the brother who he may have idolized growing up?

“What sort of business are you in? Aren’t you some hotshot in the Navy now?” Mal mocked.

“Yesterday’s news. Let’s just say I learned a few things while I was in those shitty places. How valuable certain commodities can be.”

“Fuck, if I didn’t know him, I’d almost believe him,” Jag commented, and Deal agreed with him.

“Who’s this fucker?” Jim asked, clearly pointing to Irish.

“I can either be a fucking nightmare or an angel—your choice,” Irish said. There was a certain truth to his words, too, and Deal was very glad that Irish was on their side, because at times, he was a scary motherfucker when circumstances called for it.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t get on his bad side,” Hound drawled.

Deal understood that his friends couldn’t outright ask Jim about Courtney and whatever else went on in that place, but the longer they were there, the more he was worried shit would hit the fan.

“Whatever. Why are you here, Porter?” Jim demanded.